Bloodred
by gen.meow
Summary: Humans aren't to be trusted. After their parents were murdered in cold blood, Clythia and Amarantha have dedicated their lives to destroying them all. With the war raging on against human and fae, tensions between the two have been higher than ever. But now, Clythia has got herself caught up with the most powerful general on the human side. Will Amarantha be able to save her?
1. Prologue

A faerie mansion lies in an open meadow, a golden gate closing it off from the forests and mountains that lie beyond. Unknown to the residents of this particular mansion, two mortal men creep closer to the golden gate under a cloak of darkness. The wildlife that inhabit the forest go silent, as if realizing their impending doom. Soft grass and beautiful flowers adorn this gorgeous estate, but under the muted silver glow of moonlight, the flowers seem to come alive. Leaves dance in the gentle breeze as trees sway along with them. A lake of what looks like liquid stardust ripples serenely as the wind blows. The men know to tread carefully; for this gorgeous estate is infested with ancient magic. Both have prepared months to arrive here. Ash daggers line their belts, along with mighty swords engraved with prayers to ward away faeries. Iron coats them from head to toe, to protect against any surprise attacks. On silent feet, they near the entrance to the magnificent mansion. Meanwhile, the slumbering family remains oblivious of these two intruders. Inside the largest room, an enormous bed sits regally against the pearl-white wall. Silk sheets and a pillowy comforter encase the sleeping family in a cocoon of lovely warmth. The room is filled with lavish furniture and a luxurious rug, along with a massive hearth made of marble and gold. A silver glow shines through the diamond glass windows, delicate pearly light cascading onto the sleeping family. The two men stand silently in the doorway of this beautiful room, arrows nocked and ready to fly. Creeping across the threshold, they both stop a few feet away from the bed. Then, the first arrow flies.


	2. Chapter 1

"No." breathed Amarantha as she was jolted awake by that dream. A thin line of sweat coated her hairline, red curls matted from all her tossing and turning. Clythia was out again, doing cauldron knows what at this hour. Pushing open the door of her tent, Amarantha felt the scrape of gravel on her bare feet as she stumbled past the army encampment they had put up just yesterday. The golden sky was dotted with an assortment of rich golds and pinks, birds weaving in between humongous trees that embellish the skyline. Nearing the outskirts of the tiny camp, Amarantha spotted a tiny babbling brook near a secluded nook in the dense forest. After settling down on a particularly soft patch of grass, she heaves a great sigh. Even though it was a little less than a century ago, Amarantha can remember it as clear as day. Red pooled everywhere. A warm stickiness coated her as if a second skin. Clythia and her hand in hand, sprinting into the dark forest. Ever since that day, vivid nightmares tormented her at night, her once porcelain skin marred with heavy dark circles. If one thing should be uncovered from that horrible night, it's that humans can never be trusted. Her and Clythia have devoted their lives to destroying every single one of the mortals. Or… so she thought. Clythia seemed to be more and more unfocused and distant toward her work and Amarantha. Picking up a stone, she chucked it out into the vast distance, heaving another great sigh. Humans are proving themselves even more hard to find than before, hiding in little mouse worthy tunnels and crevices. Propelling herself upward in one swift motion, Amarantha realizes how silly she must look. A crazy halo of blood red curls framed her face, along with sweat soaked silk clothing. Jogging home, she hoped that the bright sky hasn't woken anyone up yet. Luckily, a few low-ranking soldiers are milling around, but not anyone too influential. Walking into the tent, she spots Clythia. Flushed a deep red, a permanent smile seems to be plastered on Clythia's delicate face. Pulling on a pair of cotton trousers and a soldier tunic, Amarantha straps her freshly sharpened daggers and swords along with a bow and quiver. A weird noise squeaks out of Clythia's mouth, and Amarantha realizes that she's giggling. Clythia? Giggling? Brushing her sister's oddness aside, Amarantha stalks out and prepares for the day filled with search parties and hunting. But for whatever reason, Amarantha cannot shake the feeling of eyes raking down her back, no matter where she went.


End file.
